Need not I to e'er think on thee,
that in silent hours of the night,
tinged with stars of old in full-bright summer;
has a hold me height in heaven's high bower,
that esteemed dart of thy most high deserts,
hath stretched across a golden bow, my age-old love,
in the backyard of a garden,
that basest cloud to bear upon the sand dunes:
of furrowed fields against the harvest moon,
oft from out of no where arise, arise ere thine unweird eyen,
e'ery fair from thy fairest brow in my spilt words,
of what I write in thy presence alone to thee suffice.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, September 02,2015 4: 53: 23 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
outstanding thoughts read my poem nd comment stay blessed